A Broken Blade
by Pebbletooth
Summary: When strangers show up on the Clan's territory and begin murdering them one by one, a ThunderClan warrior will attempt to solve the mystery of their new enemies, or face the ultimate destruction of the Clans. R&R, flame all ya want. Rated for fighting.


The night was silent; a haunting amber moon showered the forest with a thin veil of satin. All of the birds had long silenced their singing, a thick heaviness replacing the light song. Deep in the heart of a thick deciduous forest, two cats sat back to back. The larger of the two, a heavily built dark brown tom, sat with eyes made of fire, green eyes lighting up the trees. Flames threatened to spring from the gaze and burn the landscape around him. His ears were torn from previous battles, and one long pink scar ran across his left eyelid, another battle trophy perched on the bridge of his nose.

The other cat was dwarfed compared to his companion. No bigger than an adolescent kitten, he held his chin high. His eyes, unlike the brown tom's, were stone cold, a dull amber in the night. His fur blended with the shadows, only one shade lighter than the blackest of black. The whiskers on his right muzzle were bent, with one lone long whisker and the rest stunted and shrunken looking.

Both cats shared something in common though. They each wore strange, not-so-neat harnesses across their chests. They were made from a sort of animal hide, one loop wrapped around their necks like a thing collar, while another loop made its way around the chest, while one final one was looped around the shoulder like a tassel, held in place by bony shoulder blades. Each was connected by stiff strips of hide. Hanging from the shoulder loop by strips were objects so foreign to the rest of their species.

Scabbards were attached to their harnesses. Resting comfortably inside each of them were steel blades, their glinting metal currently hidden from the moon's glow. The brown tom was armed with a long, straight sword, the tip of the scabbard a few inches from brushing the ground. It lacked any sort of finesse and was obviously designed for one thing, and one thing only: killing.

The small black cat's sword was different. For one, calling the blade a sword was an overstatement. It was a small knife, the blade curving out from the hilt. While the brown cat's sword had a straight hilt with a leather wrapped hilt to bite, the black cat's knife had an intricate dull yellow hilt. It curved and dipped in places, with a bit in the middle for the mouth.

The small one flicked an ear and glanced up at the moon. The amber orb hung almost in the middle of the sky, looming over the earth threateningly.

"It's moonhigh." The brown tom mewed the statement matter-o-factly. With a silent understanding, the smaller of the pair nodded. "You understand your current objective? There'll be no straying from orders this time."

The black cat's nose twitched in a snarl, but he grunted quietly in response. "Understood. We need to get a move on."

His companion nodded slightly. He took a step away, but hesitated, glancing back. "We meet back here, sunhigh tomorrow." His voice had a slight ring of question in it. The black cat confirmed it with a flick of his tail as he disappeared into the undergrowth.

He was glad to be rid of his brother; although he hid it, the black cat knew his brother was very nervous about their coming assignment. Well, nervous wasn't the exact word. _Cowardly. That's more like it_, the cat thought, lips curling in a half-snarl. He doubted his companion's ability to do what their orders had been.

Soon, the black cat caught a scent trail. It was located on a sort of trail, a well worn path. He smirked; these cats obviously weren't intelligent in the slightest. The mission would be easy without a doubt.

Silently, his paws led him along the trail, the scent of the enemy getting stronger and stronger with each striding step. The glint of a blue eye caught his attention and he immediately darted for cover, crouching beneath a prickly tangle of briar.

On either side of an opening into some sort of hollow (the cat guessed this was their sort of base), perched two cats. One was a muscular tabby tom, the other a slender black tabby she-cat with glowing pale blue eyes. Both sat stone still in place, eyes darting casually around their surroundings.

A slight hiss sounded as the black cat drew his blade from its dark sheath. It glinted in the moonlight, so he tried to cover it with his small paws so it didn't give him away before the attack. Leaning his head, he touched his nose to the cold blade, shivering slightly at the touch. Mumbling a quick prayer to Oeran, the god of war and triumph, he grasped the hilt of the curved blade in his mouth.

Just as he began to crouch, ready to spring, the black she-cat's head whipped directly towards him. Her eyes had caught the glint of the blade. He stared intently; the black cat muttered a curse under his breath and sprang, uncoiling a tight ball of energy.

The she-cats eyes widened dramatically. Knife in jaws, the black cat's path lead him flying right towards her. Her reactions kicked in and she dropped to the ground. The blade, originally targeting her throat, missed its target, but still sliced deeply into the she-cat's shoulder.

The other guard pounced, but the intruder foresaw his attack before he had begun. With a quick twist of the neck, the brown tom's momentum sent him straight onto the blade. It buried itself hilt deep into his chest. Staggering back, the guard coughed violently, sending a small stream of blood spraying out, some of it staining the black cat's fur. He tried to take a step forward, but immediately collapsed. The blood flow was heavy, but the killer knew it would not stay that way for long. He would have a quick death.

Absorbed in the thrill of the kill, he hadn't noticed the she-cat regrouping for another attack. She bunched up, throwing herself on the smaller cat's back. Legs almost collapsing at the impact, the black cat's blade clattered to the ground. Hissing, he reached around, searching for her pre-existing wound, difficult as the she-cat attempted to wrestle him to the ground. Finding his target, the tom lunged and sank his teeth into the wound.

The she-cat let out a scream of agony, immediately losing her grip, and the intruder wriggled out of it easily with his lithe body. He snatched up his blade and vanished into the undergrowth. _It would have been nice to have killed her as well,_ he thought, _but I'll settle for one. It was unfortunate she woke up the rest of her tribe as well._

And the she-cat's yowl had woken up the other cats in the camp.

She staggered into the camp, where a few cats were already poking their noses out of their dens, eyes wild and dazed. Her shoulder wound bled openly, leaving a splatter trail of blood as she limped to the center of camp.

A long-haired black and white she-cat shouldered past the forming crowd and rushed to the black tabby's side. "Nightwhisper!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

Wincing, she did her best to explain what had happened. The crowd fell silent, a few whispering in disbelief.

"I… I'm sorry Wildstar," Nightwhisper muttered, head hanging. Pain pulsated through her shoulder. "If I had been more careful… maybe Owlclaw wouldn't be dead."

Wildstar gave her a stern look. "Don't be saying such awful things, my dear. It was not your fault." When Nightwhisper didn't meet her gaze, she looked upon her for a few more seconds before meowing, "Basilfur!" A dark tortoiseshell tom's ears perked up. He was the medicine cat apprentice of the Clan. "Please escort our brave warrior to the medicine cat den."

Basilfur nodded vacantly, his yellow eyes clouded with shock and confusion, as if he was still trying to process the story that Nightwhisper had told. Nightwhisper followed Basilfur, glancing back towards the entrance to the camp, thinking about Owlclaw's lifeless body lying on the ground. She had never seen anything quite as gruesome as the strange metal stick the intruder had been wielding. Her shoulder throbbed. With such ease, it had cut through her flesh. _Such a thing should never exist, _she thought, but she couldn't help but thinking that if her Clan had such weaponry, the other Clans could never compete. She quickly shook this thought out of her head though.

The stranger sat perched on a small rock overhanging a creek, deeper into the forest. Gripping the hilt of his blade in his teeth, the cat lowered it into the water and watched the crimson stains run carelessly into the water. He let the cold water flow past his muzzle, welcoming the refreshing sensation. His ear twitched; he berated himself for having let the she-cat go as well. Sighing, he tried to look at the positive side. She would have a story to tell to the others, of a fearsome stranger who could kill so easily. It didn't satisfy him, but it made the cat feel a bit better.

And so the stranger by the name of Sable disappeared into the undergrowth, planning the next strike of his mission. At that same time, Nightwhisper lay in a nest in the medicine cat den, terror flooding her mind, but at the same time, she felt curiousity. What did this cat have to do with ThunderClan? Where did he come from? Exhausted from the night's events, Nightwhisper fell into a deep sleep, haunted by nightmares of the murdering cat and his deadly blade.


End file.
